


Week 8: Queen Anne's Lace / Sanctuary

by DramioneLDWS



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:08:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25026733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DramioneLDWS/pseuds/DramioneLDWS
Summary: Each chapter is an individual drabble written by a single participant.Please mind the tags/triggers at the top of each entry. Only major Archive warnings will be noted.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 11
Kudos: 41
Collections: Dramione Last Drabble Writer Standing - Round 1





	1. turncoat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: turncoat  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 492  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [Msmerlin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Msmerlin/pseuds/Msmerlin)

Traitor.

Turncoat. 

He’d heard it all before. First when he took the mark. It had been far from a well kept secret, and those judgemental whispers followed him through the castle like a shadow. Always looming, always lingering, an ever present reminder—not that he needed one.

Back then the insults didn’t sting. Not when the truth was still hidden behind the crumbling walls of his ancestral home. He hadn't taken the mark because he believed the rhetoric. He took it to protect his family.

The irony was that it hadn't helped—it didn’t save him from having to bury them in the end.

The insults didn’t stop with Voldemort’s demise though.

No, they _amplified_. No longer merewhispers, they were slung at him like the very hexes he tried to deflect during the Battle of Hogwarts.

Traitor. 

Turncoat. 

_Murderer._

To one side he was the boy-who-killed Albus Dumbledore, and to the other he was the catalyst for Voldemort’s fall. 

He was a pariah, and had come to terms with knowing he would have to live the rest of his years on the fringe of society. He was prepared to be alone forever.

Though someone had something else in mind. 

At first it shocked him, when she claimed the seat opposite of him at the 8th year table. Why on earth the Gryffindor princess would want to be near him was beyond him. But then she kept popping up.

Choosing to be his partner in potions.

Sitting on the Quidditch Pitch when he rode his broom.

And the worst offense yet? She was at his table in the library. The one bloody place he could find some sort of peace in this castle and she was there! 

“I’m not your next fucking charity case, Granger.” He dropped his book bag on the table, the loud thump only amplifying the silence around them. “Leave. Me. _Alone._ ”

She didn’t seem phased by his venomous tone. If anything, what shimmered back at him in those annoyingly large brown eyes was understanding… sympathy. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Malfoy.” She flicked her mess of curls over her shoulders before turning her attention back to the parchment unfurled before her.

It didn’t make any sense. Why she of all people would want to befriend him. She should hate him. She should spew hate like the rest. She should—

“Did you know that during the Goblin Rebellion of 1612 Hogwarts took in the wounded Goblins and Wizards for respite?” Her quill began to scratch across the parchment. “And during the Witch Hunts of the 14th century, Muggles accused of witchcraft were brought to the castle to escape prosecution.”

“What the hell does that have to do with—”

“Hogwarts has always provided sanctuary, Malfoy. Unbiasedly. The castle chooses no sides.” She looked up at him through thick lashes, her nose quirking like it always did when she thought something obvious. “Perhaps we ought to remind people of that.”


	2. The Enemy Of My Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: The Enemy Of My Enemy  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 499  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [I_was_BOTWP](https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_was_BOTWP/pseuds/I_was_BOTWP)

_The enemy of my enemy is my friend._

"It starts out that way, until one day you realize you're actually friends." 

Hermione had been surreptitiously, or so she thought, watching Malfoy’s long fingers as he separated Queen Anne's Lace into its usable parts, carefully shaking flower umbels, when Neville sidled up to her. 

"Or more," he disingenuously added.

A quick glance around proved no one was minding their conversation. She leveled Neville with a stare. “You've lost the plot.”

"I haven't. He talks about you when we're alone. It’s obvious there’s _something_ there.” 

The two wizards had forged an unlikely friendship during hours spent together as their group's foragers, guarding each other's back while harvesting plants. 

She chose to ignore his statement. "You got plenty of Queen Anne seeds this time, right?"

Whereas a younger Neville would have blushed and stammered, the man beside her simply rolled his eyes. "Nobody's interested in accidental pregnancies."

"Granger," Malfoy called from across the camp, "what do you want to do with all this?"

Before she could move, Neville grabbed her wrist. "We also need to decide what to do with some elderberries hidden in his rucksack."

"We know what Theo will want to do." 

She expected Neville to laugh and agree with her, but he frowned, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Maybe making wine isn't a horrible idea. Merlin knows it’s been a while since we had anything to look forward to.”

Sighing, Hermione nodded, conceding his point. 

Neville inclined his head at Malfoy, who now stood twirling his wand, staring expectantly at them. "You could give him a chance. You both seem… lonely." He squeezed her shoulder, then walked away to his and Ginny's tent.

"About time. I've got other things to do." Malfoy’s snide tone contradicted Neville's theory. 

She crossed her arms, cataloguing the plants arranged on the work-bench. “Leave the asphodel bulbs for bread, but bring their leaves. The bowl of seeds. Half the mint.” She strode towards the potions lab. “Except for what’s in your rucksack, the rest can be eaten.”

“Guess I’ll just carry it all then?” he snapped, but still scooped up everything she'd indicated and followed her.

The tent flap had barely closed before she wrapped her arms around his neck. His pack thunked to the floor. The heat in their kiss and his possessive grip on her hips momentarily seared away her nagging worries.

When Draco began placing a series of nips and licks down her neck, she reluctantly pulled back. “We need to talk.”

“About Neville?”

“Yes.”

“I did what you asked. He seemed open to the idea of us.”

“He urged me to _give you a chance_.”

“So what’s the problem? Our plan’s working." He gave her a searching look. "We agreed it's the right time. He'll tell Ginny, and I already wagered you that they'll both be our allies.”

“And I already said it's not a real bet if either way _you_ win.”

“Trust me, we're both going to win.”


	3. Home.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Home.  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 495  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [anne_ammons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anne_ammons/pseuds/anne_ammons)

Some describe home as a place; the house they grew up in, for example, knowing its walls and windows and noises as sure as they know their own scars and blemishes.

Inside that home, some may even have a favorite spot — a place of retreat when everything is right in the world, or needs to be. 

They can recall how it feels to be tucked securely under the covers of their bed, feeling the weight of blankets around them. Or a kitchen, filled with warmth and merriment, where memories of holiday treats and laughter sit interspersed with the particular sound mugs make when clanked against each other. 

Because home is not just a place. It is the memories and the particular sounds and smells that make up those memories that inhabit our mental real estate. Any one of those can trigger a remembered sense of security or happiness. 

However, not everyone has the luxury of doting parents and the smell of warm biscuits to recall. Others would do better to forget the places they started in life altogether, especially when so many of the memories that can be called forth aren’t good ones. 

For some, what should be a safe place is instead a place to flee; a place of panic and pain, instead of sanctuary, no matter what it looks like from the outside.

Which is why some wander or drift, because they lack a tether; they have no anchor. They are without that physical grounding that ties their personhood and soul together in such a way that they know who they are or recognize their own worth. 

But you know just how lucky you are, because you drifted, until you found yourself snagged in a tangle of honey brown curls that pulled you under while simultaneously giving you enough breath to sustain you. And before you even realized how lost you were, you found the shelter you’d been craving all along.

Home doesn’t have to be a place. Sometimes home is a person; one who knows your insides and outsides as well as they know the four walls around them. Someone who can navigate your prickles and push-backs with their eyes closed. Someone who accepts your snark, but much to your chagrin, insists that you pick yourself up and push forward when you would rather wallow, but who also waits with open arms each time when you return. 

And so, you replace those fragmented memories of a childhood best left forgotten, and you make new ones that you didn’t even realize were possible. And you find something that resembles happiness, tangled up in that web of honey brown hair and freckles, a love of sarcasm and a brilliance you are more than content to watch. And you recall her in the smell of parchment, the sound of laughter, and the feel of her arms around you.

And you know that she is your home, and you never, ever want to leave it again.


	4. All By Myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: All By Myself  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 499  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [NuclearNik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NuclearNik/pseuds/NuclearNik)

It was quiet in the seldom-used tower off the backside of the castle; the perfect escape from the utter chaos that swarmed the place after the sorting ceremony let out. The wonder in the eyes of tiny First-Years was endearing, to be sure, but the chorus of titters and squeals was something one only needed to experience once before it began to cause a headache.

With her back against the stone of a deep window well, Hermione looked out onto the grounds, vivid memories flashing in her head like a broken movie reel.

Trees had been replanted, windows shored up, and new protection spells now lined the perimeter. For all intents and purposes, Hogwarts was restored to its former glory, and the blanket of discontent and uneasiness had lifted. Things were healing.

If only it were that easy for the people left barely standing in the wake of it all.

Hermione carried that blanket with her everywhere she went; it clung to her in the hot, wet heat of summer and provided little protection when the iciness of winter descended. She could never take it off. It was affixed to her with the strength of a thousand sticking charms.

Permanent.

But when she was alone in the quiet, looking over the peaceful land surrounding the place she'd called home for nearly a decade, she could almost feel the weight lift, just a centimetre. Her lungs filled with air slowly and steadily, free from the tight, constricting grip of panic that had become her closest friend.

"Hiding from the masses, Granger? That's not very Gryffindor of you."

Controlling the urge to roll her eyes, Hermione acknowledged Malfoy with a dip of her chin. "I don't feel like much of one these days."

His hands circled her ankles and tucked them closer to her body so he could climb onto the other side of the sill. His fingers didn't even brush bare skin, yet a shiver sparked down her spine.

"Yeah," he said, voice low as he gazed out through the thick glass. It was one word, but it was heavy with understanding and perhaps even solidarity. Shafts of moonlight on the dark horizon shifted as twilight became night, and her mind turned to the wizard beside her.

She'd seen him a few times over the summer at the work days organised to clean up Hogwarts after the battle. At first, she'd been surprised, but he'd worked hard and seemed to truly be invested in repairing their world after so much devastation. They'd planted a flower bed together and fixed a wall the weekend after.

At some point, they'd reached companionable silence as they worked, and the same comfortable atmosphere fell over them now.

With a scoot to the right, Hermione leaned on him, laying her head on his shoulder. The cloying blanket lifted and warmth settled over her instead when his arm came around her waist.

It was much easier being lonely when you had someone to share it with.

**Author's Note:**

> [VOTE HERE](https://forms.gle/yZnrCsmndyB7Gk6z9)


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